


stolen in the morning air

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Morning Sex, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 06:12:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18190802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca wakes Chloe up. Smut.





	stolen in the morning air

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on fic that I specifically did NOT want to write smut for, so I had to purge everything out into something else. Oh well.
> 
> As always, come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/)!

Chloe feels the last dredges of sleep slipping away from her just as a heavy, warm weight settles on her. The weight begins below her waist and stretches contentedly up the rest of her body, reaching Chloe’s face where she feels the barest hint of warm breath against her chin and the tickle of errant strands of hair against her cheek.

 

“Wake up.”

 

Chloe manages a singular grunt, refusing to open her eyes to what she’s sure will be Beca’s playful expression.

 

Having returned late after a house party the night before, Chloe feels just the barest hint of a hangover threatening to creep into the furthest edges of her mind. She’s grateful for her decision to freshen up  _ before _ collapsing into bed, not feeling as gross as she possibly could, so she bats the hint of hangover away, opting to focus on Beca’s warm weight. Something about Beca’s weight on top of hers, lightly straddling her lap and pressed so intimately against her…Chloe loves the way Beca’s body seems to fit against hers so perfectly and snugly, as if they were never meant to be apart.

 

(She never wants to be apart.)

 

“No,” Chloe manages to say, blinking an eye open. She can’t help but smile up at Beca who is worrying her lower lip between her teeth like she wants to ask Chloe something important.

 

Something important, desperate, needy - it coils a little in Chloe’s core, impatient to awaken with the rest of her body. She recognizes the familiar expression in Beca’s eyes.

 

“Hi,” Beca murmurs, lifting a hand to comb through Chloe’s hair. She smiles at the way Chloe’s hair fans out a little on the pillow, a small halo of red curls, still as soft as the day before. It’s a little unfair that Chloe manages to look like an angel at any given point in the day.

 

But now - especially now, when the morning has just begun and they have the rest of the day ahead of them - Chloe looks especially angelic. It’s a special kind of angelic that Beca knows serves as a preamble to Chloe giving in to her wishes; a preamble to Chloe’s fingers inside her, gently smoothing and stroking the heat inside Beca until she cries out quietly against Chloe’s neck or shoulder.

 

She’s more than desperate at this point, having woken up with her own hand halfway down her underwear (already discarded for Chloe’s convenience).

 

The flash in Chloe’s eyes is all Beca needs to know that she has her hooked.

 

“You’re wearing my sweater,” Chloe murmurs, eyes darkening as they slip, half-lidded, up and down the length of Beca’s body as she sits up on Chloe’s lap. Chloe’s hands fly to her thighs, like natural magnetism. A product of their attraction to each other. 

 

Beca can’t manage words, not now when Chloe’s hands slide further up her thighs. Beca gently puts her hands on Chloe’s forearms, neither guiding nor halting. Just for the contact and closeness.

 

She feels the shift in Chloe’s body when Chloe realizes her lack of underwear. She feels Chloe’s arms tense like she’s trying not to immediately flex her fingers tight on Beca’s skin. Beca wishes she would. Beca wants that white-hot possession on her -  _ in her _ .

 

Chloe bites her lip, trying not let out a sound. Letting her hands disappear under the hem of her oversized sweater, Beca’s soft skin goes unhindered. She can feel how warm she is and as her thumbs rub circles on her thighs, closer and closer to Beca’s core, the warmth feels thicker somehow, like a hint of the tantalizing wetness she knows lies between Beca’s legs.

 

As if anticipating her next request, Chloe sits up slowly as Beca leans forward eagerly. Slowly, their lips meet and even though they’ve kissed many times since their first date, it still sends the most peculiar rush through Chloe’s body. Like she can’t quite believe Beca is hers and Beca is  _ willing  _ to be hers - the way Beca’s kisses range from tender to passionate (sometimes in the blink of an eye).

 

With Beca’s kiss, Chloe only anticipates how wet Beca is and barely resists the urge to push Beca back until she’s lying spread open for Chloe - ready to take Chloe’s fingers or mouth until she’s writhing and a complete mess.

 

Chloe whimpers a little into the kiss at the thought and her fingers finally tighten around Beca’s thighs. Beca’s hips shift forward, a little impatiently and a little desperately, but nothing is more telling than the shiver that ripples up Beca’s spine and the way she pulls at Chloe's hair to hold her closer.

 

Tilting her head, Beca tries to pull Chloe further into her body. Chloe shifts and maintains their balance, trying to keep Beca steady, but Beca can barely restrain herself from rocking into Chloe’s lap once more. The little nip Chloe leaves on her lip is a warning almost - a reminder to be patient.

 

If Beca knows anything about Chloe, it’s that her girlfriend loves making out. Long, slow, languid kisses. Repeated brushes of her tongue against Beca’s mouth. Anywhere it can reach. A reminder of what Chloe’s tongue feels like against her centre, when she’s soaked and on the verge of coming hard and fast.

 

It makes Beca clench around nothing. Yet another reminder that she has yet to succeed in her goal of engaging in morning sex with her delightfully sleepy and pliant girlfriend. If it were any other time, Beca is sure that Chloe would have her on her back and would already be in the midst of teasing her mercilessly. Bringing her to the edge and barely holding her back.

 

“Please,” she murmurs into Chloe’s mouth. Chloe’s sweater, while a good idea at the time, is only stifling and nearly suffocating with how hot Beca feels. Her skin, she’s sure, is already beginning to flush - a combination of how snugly she’s pressed against Chloe and how thick the sweater is, but mostly a result of how fucking turned on she is solely by virtue of Chloe’s tongue tracing her mouth with the hint of promise.

 

Chloe doesn’t respond - or maybe she can’t, so early in the morning. She simply inhales deeply, neither resigned nor accommodating, but rather a simple marker of her being present. She can feel how warm Beca is - it radiates from her soaked centre out against Chloe’s lap, like a tantalizing signal, beckoning Chloe home. She can read the desperation in Beca’s eyes when she pulls back, both of them breathing deeply and slowly. The desperation screams out in waves - waves that translate into the gentle nudge of Beca’s hips against her own. 

 

“Stop,” Chloe murmurs, finding her voice. It sticks a little in her throat, heavy with arousal. 

 

And Beca does. She stops and presses her face into Chloe’s neck, muffling the soft whimper that bubbles from her chest. The way she stops is telling: she’s rigid and stiff, locked into her own arousal and so ready for Chloe to do as she pleases. She knows Beca is waiting for her - patient in her own way, despite the outward behaviour, but God, if Chloe doesn’t eat it up completely, soaking in Beca’s desire and arousal.

 

The way they feed off each other like this - the sheer push and pull - makes Chloe only more anxious to feel Beca’s skin on her own. She gently tugs at the hem of Beca’s sweater (her sweater) and helps her patiently pull it up over her head only to-

 

To find a t-shirt.

 

Chloe almost wants to laugh. Beca’s hair is more disheveled now, though paired with Beca’s mildly disgruntled expression, it’s more adorable than anything.

 

“So many layers,” Chloe murmurs, a play on how complex Beca actually is despite the way she tends to present herself publicly. 

 

Beca looks like she might tell her to be quiet and Chloe can’t have Beca getting off on her own brattiness at the moment, so she pushes a warm hand under the hem of Beca’s t-shirt - plain, white, and doing little for her imagination - to squeeze her waiting breast. She can feel Beca’s hardened nipple against her palm and it only makes her sigh happily, taking in the pleasure that crosses Beca’s face, replacing the original annoyance.

 

Her other hand closes around the back of Beca’s neck and quickly pulls her down for a kiss. While her tongue pushes past Beca’s lips, Chloe’s fingers gently begin tweaking and pinching at Beca’s nipple, eliciting more sounds from Beca - more desperation, more stimulation, “more, Chlo” - until she’s squirming in Chloe’s lap, shifting so she can grind down  _ hard  _ on Chloe’s thigh.

 

Of all things - how wet Beca is, how Chloe’s thigh serves as the perfect amount of friction to Beca’s swollen centre - Chloe can feel Beca’s stiff clit above all. Slick and tight against Chloe’s thigh, she tenses her own muscles experimentally, feeling Beca’s clit with more clarity. It does wonders because Beca gasps wantonly into her mouth and tears herself away to nearly rock herself right off Chloe’s body. Chloe gently lets Beca’s stiff, overstimulated nipple leave her fingers and instead glides her hand down the plane of Beca’s stomach. She bites her lip, still holding the back of Beca’s neck with one hand to keep her steady, and watches the way Beca’s entire body moves fluidly. Like the impending orgasm that will rip through her is already there, threatening to burst at any moment. 

 

It’s beautiful.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Chloe murmurs, finding her voice once more. With Beca, like this, Chloe feels like her head can clear itself, finally. She lets a new haze overtake her completely - the one warring with her fatigued mind and body - and it’s Beca. It’s Beca, all around her and within her. She loves mornings like this - the realization that this is her reality and she wakes up to Beca Mitchell, in her arms, and begging with her body only.

 

Beca tilts her head back down. Slowly, so Chloe can see every last tendon in Beca’s neck slowly dissipate. Chloe licks her lips unconsciously when Beca’s gaze locks on to hers. Keeping her eyes on Beca’s, Chloe lets her stalled hand slowly finish its journey between Beca’s legs. She leans forward until Beca obliges and lays all the way back, both of them now having found their way to the foot of the bed. Chloe loves the tangles in Beca’s hair and the loose waves that take shape when Beca chooses not to do anything fancy with her hair.

 

She loves the high flush on Beca’s cheeks and the streak of sunshine that seeps through their one broken window shutter.

 

She loves the plumpness of Beca’s lips - especially her lower lip, a little red from Chloe’s attention.

 

…The slow flush that spreads down Beca’s neck and beneath the collar of her t-shirt.

 

And between Beca’s legs…exactly what Chloe wants and needs at this given moment (though a case may be made for  _ always _ , since sex became more regular) _. _

 

Chloe doesn’t need to look - though maybe she will, later, when Beca is breathless and staring nearly blankly up at the ceiling - but she knows Beca’s lower lips are swollen and wet. Slick, probably, with wet streaks on the inside of her thighs. Chloe’s fingers confirm this, gently rubbing the edges of Beca’s centre, just around her entrance. With her middle finger, Chloe probes, searching, almost. She dips just the tip into Beca, watching the way Beca’s entire face seems to slacken as the pleasure overtakes her - overtakes both of them - momentarily.

 

“Inside,” Chloe murmurs, mostly to herself. She lets her middle finger slide in slowly, taking her time. She forces herself to  _ feel _ \- to feel every last clench of Beca’s muscles, and every new sensation. Nothing beats this, for Chloe - the strength of their desire for each other coming together at this moment.

 

Beca finds herself unable to voice anything at the moment - unable to even moan or whimper because her body locks up in that very specific way it does when she feels Chloe’s fingers inside her for the first time. She’s almost embarrassed at how wet she is - how wet she always gets when Chloe so much as  _ looks  _ at her - but she can’t really do anything about that, not when Chloe is looking down at her, brow furrowed and eyes bright.

 

God, it’s fucking bright in the room suddenly. Beca can see the light illuminating the side of Chloe’s face. It makes Chloe glow in a way, highlighting the developing flush on her cheeks. Beca wants to cup Chloe’s jaw and she moves her hand up to do so, but at the last moment, she changes course to grab Chloe’s wrist, halting her movements. Beca hums, a little high-pitched sound, closing her eyes at the feeling of Chloe’s finger sinking all the way inside her and wriggling a little as if it’s getting comfortable - warm, snug and completely soaked amidst Beca’s come. 

 

(Fucking tease.)

 

“Two,” Beca manages to whimper, finally, when she regains at least a couple of her senses. “Two, Chlo,” she croaks out.

 

A myriad of other words threaten to escape - unbidden sentences that she knows will set Chloe aflame, but her body is crying out for some relief - relief that Beca can't even beg for at the moment. The ache ripples up and down her spine, rendering her helpless.

 

(Words like “I’m yours” and “I’ve been good, I promise” rattle inside her brain. Surefire ways to get Chloe to give in…but she loves it when Chloe takes her time. When Chloe tries to reconcile the early morning with their rampant desires.)

 

“Two,” Chloe repeats, though it comes out on a rasp. A little breathless, a little too tinged with arousal. Beca can only wait, holding her breath for a millisecond longer while Chloe deliberates her fate. 

 

Chloe’s hand near Beca’s head seems to tighten into the bedsheet, but neither woman is conscious of that fact. Beca exhales just as Chloe leans down to passionately press her lips against Beca’s. A showing of love and desire, even as she slowly removes her finger. Beca nearly cries at the loss, too enamoured to really even whimper. Still, she has faith, because Chloe has always given her everything, even without prompting.

 

It’s the kind of person Chloe is.

 

Beca lets her grip slacken from Chloe’s wrist when she feels Chloe’s fingers reigniting their exploration between her legs. Chloe draws slow circles around her entrance, as slow as the languid kisses they’re trading.

 

Chloe marvels in how wet Beca is; marvels at the way Beca inches her leg out to accommodate Chloe’s hand. The restraint Beca displays with each pass of Chloe’s fingers is remarkable, to say the least, save for the slight twitch in Beca’s hips.

 

Of all things, it reminds Chloe of tying Beca up, leaving her helpless and spread open for Chloe to have her way; it reminds Chloe of the sounds Beca had made when Chloe had her at her mercy - the way Beca had squirmed for release. Beca’s obedience at moments like this has always charmed Chloe in ways she could never have imagined.

 

Beca is gentle in the way she scratches at the back of Chloe’s head, interspersed with the slow drags of her fingers through Chloe’s hair. Beca moans, soft and low into Chloe’s mouth, letting their lips part for both air and a moment of intimacy as they breathe together. Chloe slowly lets her fingers trail up to Beca’s clit, adoring its firmness and gently spreading more of Beca’s come across it in a soothing gesture. It makes Beca shiver and turn her head to the side. The action only exposes Beca’s neck further, luring Chloe right into one of her favorite spots.

 

Chloe nudges at Beca’s neck with her nose, inhaling deeply. Her inhale coincides with the slow press of her fingers through the warmth of Beca’s entrance, gently pushing - pushing until she’s immersed inside her fully. On mornings like this, Chloe relishes the way everything is enhanced. Even though they hardly shed the rest of their clothes, Chloe can feel every last breath and she can hear every sound with startling clarity. It’s more than enough - a reminder that everything she has with Beca is so overwhelmingly intimate at times, but she adores every last moment of it.

 

(Of course, nothing quite beats the way Beca’s breath stutters or the way she clenches at staggered intervals around Chloe’s fingers. The way Beca’s whimpers eventually weaken and taper off into the sounds that Chloe loves to hear most - hardly able to be categorized as anything, really, except sounds that make Chloe’s heart pound and her chest ache.)

 

* * *

 

For once, there is no particular rhythm Chloe has in mind - only that she wants to maintain the noises Beca is making. She steadily pumps her fingers, pressing her forehead against Beca’s, trying not to whimper herself because of how tight and warm Beca feels around her. Beca’s hand maneuvers to grip her ass, loosely aiding Chloe’s gentle rocks against Beca’s thigh. The fabric of Chloe’s underwear is beyond damp - nearly soaked, in all honesty. There is a very distinct pull in her chest when she keenly feels the sensation of the wet fabric dragging across and between her folds. She is content, however for the time being, to continue her steady ministrations between Beca’s legs.

 

Beca tries to find purchase on their sheets - tries to grab at something. She loosely grazes the edge of Chloe’s discarded sweater, only reminding her that her ache still needs soothing; reminding her of the building, wanton need in her that craves that desperate release.

 

Chloe mouths at Beca’s cheek and her jaw, eventually finding her way back to Beca’s lips. She both adores and hates the way Beca chooses to worry her lower lip between her teeth. Like she’s restraining herself from making a single sound. Steadily, Chloe finds more confidence in her rhythm, working with the way Beca begins to emit small, high-pitched noises akin to grunts. They come from somewhere in her chest and bubble up her throat and escape through the small space between their lips. Delicate enough to break the almost stale, morning air, and yet sharp enough to jolt desire through Chloe’s body unashamedly. At this point, their kisses are barely taking any coherent form, nearly sloppy in the way their lips graze and merge with every thrust of Chloe’s fingers.

 

Chloe beckons and curls with her fingers. Her forearm flexes and strains. Her thumb nudges insistently at Beca’s clit, steadily driving Beca’s orgasm.

 

She wonders if Beca sees stars as clearly as Chloe does, pressed so tightly against her. Inside her. When Chloe closes her eyes, she envisions being inside Beca so intimately - so vividly that it steals her breath. 

 

Beca marvels at the way Chloe wraps her up in love. Delicate, marvelous love, shared in the privacy of their bedroom, spread across their sheets. Chloe is ardent and passionate, even if she stares heavily at Beca through sleep-ridden eyelids. The desire, molten in her eyes, sends heat coursing through Beca. Chloe’s easy indulgence of Beca’s wants and needs (how desperately she aches for Chloe inside her, particularly as she woke earlier this morning) propels Beca further. 

 

She’s close to release - so close to that addictive high. Beca chases it as best as she can; she focuses on the feelings Chloe elicits in her physically.

 

(Emotionally, Chloe elicits the whole breadth of possibility. An unlimited well of love and passion. Emotionally, Chloe drives Beca to be the best version of herself. Chloe makes Beca want to dream harder than she ever has.)

 

Physically, Chloe works Beca’s body over like no other. Beca vividly recalls their first time like no other. It often flashes through Beca’s mind, wrecking her body with desire. It mixes with other instances of Chloe’s expertise with her body - the way Chloe is so eager to please. Chloe’s slender fingers, working over her clit. Chloe’s mouth, warm and wet against Beca’s skin. Down, down - sucking at wet folds. The way Chloe quells the throb, but only temporarily so that she can make stars burst behind Beca’s eyes. Chloe inside her in so many ways: her fingers, her tongue, the first time she took Beca with their now-shared strap-on.

 

Of course, her imagination only goes so far. Beca’s orgasm rattles inside her, threatening to burst at any moment. She gasps, her mind flickering back and forth between past and present. She wants Chloe to take her right into the future - the impending warmth and sated desire. Chloe’s room, warm from their activities now, is the perfect sanctuary for that. When Beca’s work takes her far away, she loves the solace she finds in Chloe’s arms; in Chloe’s body; in Chloe. Chloe is steady and present; a home, nestled away in Davis when Beca needs an escape.

 

“Fuck,” Beca whimpers, feeling like she struggles to form any real sound. “Fuck, Chlo.” She heaves a breath.

 

She’s close and Chloe  _ knows _ .

 

Chloe recognizes the tells of her body: a light sheen of sweat, a flush across her face resulting in unevenly red cheeks (Beca thinks she looks unattractive, Chloe thinks she looks like a Goddess), the clenching (God, the fucking  _ clenching _ ), the desperate way Beca’s hand finds its way to her own hair, clutching at already messy tangles.

 

_ Hello _ , Chloe thinks faintly.

 

Chloe’s fingers curl.

 

Chloe’s fingers press into her with the most delicious pressure.

 

(Once more.  _ Please _ .)

 

The breath she previously held unwittingly spills out of her and the coil finally snaps. All at once, Beca feels warmth. It ripples through her, never quite lingering in her chest or her core. She finally manages to snap her legs together, keeping Chloe’s hand snug between her thighs. 

 

Chloe’s breath bursts out against her face.

 

* * *

 

Chloe heaves a breath, suddenly so aware of how badly she aches and throbs for some relief. She needs relief.

 

Chloe slowly extricates herself from Beca’s grasp, moving off Beca’s body. Their breaths echo around them. The soft thump Beca’s arm makes against the bed is dull against the roaring in Chloe’s ears. She rises on her knees near Beca’s head, smiling down at her lovely, sated girlfriend when Beca puffs out another noisy breath. Beca’s hand lifts to gently curl around her thigh. The gentle intimate stroke of her thumb against Chloe’s skin soothes Chloe for a moment. 

 

She feels awake now.

 

Beca hums sleepily, trailing her hand upwards to tease the edge of Chloe’s briefs - her favourite sleeping attire. At the edges, Beca’s fingers twitch almost impatiently because she can feel the telling warmth radiating from Chloe’s center. She feels the residual streaks of wetness on her own thigh.

 

Without words, Chloe gently takes Beca’s hand and pushes her arm above her head, smiling at the pout Beca shoots her.

 

Chloe pulls the waistband of her underwear, tugging it down her thighs. Beca’s eyes track between her legs instantaneously, like a moth to a flame as expected.

 

Chloe almost wants to tease Beca. Ask her if she’s had enough. Ask her why she wants more all the time.

 

She wants to see Beca’s little embarrassed smile, in contrast with the deep desire in her eyes.

 

To be wanted this much is astounding to Chloe. To be wanted this much by Beca Mitchell is another beautiful wonder on its own.

 

She lifts one knee, then the other, finally shucking her underwear away into the void.

 

“I’m going to sit on your face,” Chloe murmurs, slowly pushing her own hand between her legs. She bites her lip when she applies the barest hint of pressure against her aching, neglected clit. Beca’s dazed expression doesn’t indicate if she’s listening at all or if she’s fully distracted by Chloe’s actions. “Bec,” she calls softly. “Did you hear me?”

 

Beca’s eyes snap to her, blue as ever. Wide with misplaced innocence. “Yes,” she murmurs. “God, yes.” Chloe smiles, reaching down to gently comb Beca’s hair into a loose bun. Beca sighs at the action, eyes fluttering shut. Beca’s hand comes up to stroke slowly up Chloe’s forearm. 

 

(It says ‘I love you’ and ‘mine’ all at once.)

 

Chloe slides her hair tie around the base of the messy bun, smiling at the oddly sweet look about Beca at this moment, though she still looks thoroughly fucked. 

 

She  _ feels _ more than hears Beca’s excited little exhale when she swings her leg over Beca’s face, careful to avoid errant strands of hair. Beca’s hands are even more indicative of said excitement, the way they fly up to grip her ass, squeezing and palming.

 

Chloe has half a mind to tell her to stop - has half a mind to tell Beca to knock it off - because she knows what she’s doing.

 

She knows that she’s teasing her.

 

But Beca’s touch turns loving. She rakes her hand up Chloe’s back as far as she can reach. The other hand rubs the swell of Chloe’s hip. Slips around to her front and dips down to gently rest on her lower abdomen.

 

Beca holds her like this for a moment. Chloe leans forward, bracing herself lightly on Beca’s stomach, careful not to add too much pressure. She gazes up and down the expanse of Beca’s body, a little disappointed that she forgot to take Beca’s t-shirt off. She can see the soft curves of Beca’s breasts and her nipples straining against the white fabric.

 

“Oh,” Chloe murmurs, partly in pleasure and partly in recognition.

 

Pleasure because Beca’s hands gently urge her down and that first, slow lick of Beca’s tongue against her dripping slit.

 

Recognition because she sees Beca’s thighs sliding together needily and remembers she had  _ plans. _

 

Trying not to immediately succumb to Beca’s wonderfully talented mouth, Chloe allows herself a few rocks against Beca’s face. Beca’s tongue is diligent and the soft, wet sucking noise Chloe can faintly hear (nevermind what she  _ feels _ ) is sinful.

 

She gently pries Beca’s thighs apart, stroking soft skin soothingly when she feels the muscles jump under her palms. She moans softly, tilting her head down for a moment to savor the sensation of both Beca’s finger and tongue probing at her entrance. Shutting her eyes, she relishes the slow build in her core, tightening around nothing. She craves friction, pressure, anything-

 

And yet, Beca’s gentle, slow tongue works her over steadily. Like a steady crescendo. 

 

Opening her eyes again, Chloe stabilizes herself, gazing down at Beca’s glistening thighs. She knows Beca is sensitive, probably still stuck in the afterglow of her orgasm.

 

It only makes Chloe want to taste her.

 

Using her index and middle fingers, Chloe grazes Beca’s clit. Beca moans, breath hot and wet against Chloe’s wet skin. Continuing downwards, Chloe gently separates her fingers, as if smoothing the slick wetness down Beca’s folds. Leaning down all the way, Chloe licks at Beca’s clit, nestled between her fingers. She flicks at it gently with her tongue. Beca jolts. Chloe blows a gentle stream of air against it. Beca’s leg goes rigid and hums against Chloe’s center.

 

Chloe gives in.

 

Making sure to use her lips and tongue generously, she kisses and sucks at whatever streaks of wetness she can reach and see.

 

Sight isn’t a particularly important sense at the moment for Chloe, not from this angle. Beca is beautiful in every aspect and Chloe could spend hours between her legs, exploring and observing the way Beca comes for her.

 

(Everything about Beca screams  _ promise _ , their first time. Her eyes bright with unshed desire. Her legs, spread open for Chloe willingly. Her lips, swollen from making out passionately and lovingly. Chloe’s desire spills over and she knows she’s gone. Hooked for life.)

 

“Can you come again?” Chloe murmurs, using the tip of her finger to circle Beca’s dripping hole. “For me?”

 

Beca makes a sound in the affirmative - at least, Chloe thinks she does. She hums a cute moan against Chloe’s skin, nodding so that the tip of her nose brushes against Chloe intimately.

 

Slowly, their gentle kisses and slow, soft sucks develop in their intensity and passion. Chloe hooks her hands and arms under Beca’s thighs, gently parting her a bit further. She rests her heated cheek against Beca’s thigh, breathing heavily when she feels Beca’s tongue and lips explore a little messily and heavily against her now-throbbing center. She half wants to just resign herself to shamelessly bucking her hips impatiently down against Beca’s face, but the way Beca draws her orgasms out are the most pleasant mixes of teasing and aching pleasure. Chloe is content to let Beca do what she wants, even if she can barely focus on her own task.

 

Giving in to an even more carnal instinct, Chloe strives to bring Beca all the way up again - just to let her feel the same pleasure and love once more. Using her fingers and tongue, Chloe immerses herself once more.

 

The way their orgasms rush over them is almost simultaneous. The way Beca’s legs stiffen and kick out ramrod straight for a second is nearly at the exact moment Chloe’s entire body shudders with the force of her orgasm. 

 

By the time Chloe comes to her senses, she’s already halfway off Beca’s body, still twitching with pleasure and warmth. Beca’s hand is resting against her thigh, rubbing slowly.

 

Each quiet pant and stuttered breath serves as the passing of time. Chloe’s not sure how long they stay there - how long they stay like that, both staring up at the ceiling.

 

Raking a hand through her hair, sweeping it out of the way, Chloe exhales heavily. She’s almost certain her roommate is awake and likely at the opposite end of the apartment. A random, jarring thought that almost halts the pleasant tingles travelling up her spine as she shifts and rights herself so she’s lying beside Beca, arm to arm.

 

The reminder that the world spins without them is both sad and refreshing. On one hand, she wants to lose herself in her beautiful, talented girlfriend more often. She wants more mornings alone. More mornings where she actually gets to wake up to Beca Mitchell. More mornings of not missing Beca with all her heart.

 

On the other hand-

 

Beca emits a small giggle - the most obvious showing of how much she trusts and adores Chloe. Rolling into Chloe’s side, she presses her growing grin into Chloe’s neck, content to steal a few more minutes from their morning. Their weekends together are so fleeting, but she can draw out this moment for just a while longer.

 

“Love you,” Beca murmurs. “And not just because you gave me two mind-blowing orgasms. But, uh. Yeah.” 

 

Chloe can practically  _ feel  _ the blush bloom on Beca’s face. It’s funny how embarrassed Beca gets  _ still _ , even after everything they’ve been through together.

 

Chloe lazily traces a finger across whatever bit of Beca’s skin she can find - her thigh, she thinks - too content to lie still. 

 

On the other hand, Chloe thinks that being able to share a life with Beca at all is the highlight of her life to end all highlights.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

She wouldn’t change it for the world.


End file.
